


The Trials of Being a Hero

by chibi_nightowl



Category: Batman (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Drama Queen Jason, Established Relationship, Exhausted Tim, M/M, Minor Injuries, Slightly Suggestive Art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 22:50:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19037119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_nightowl/pseuds/chibi_nightowl
Summary: Tim arrives home exhausted from a mission. All he wants is a shower and twelve hours of sleep.Jason has other ideas.





	The Trials of Being a Hero

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when I find random Tumblr posts and share them with artist friends. Art is by the wonderful curdleddoodle! We both managed to crank out our respective parts in about two hours, so yay us!

There are times when Tim dislikes being a hero. Saving the day doesn’t get old, not by a long shot, but after missions like this one that dragged out for weeks only to culminate in one utterly insane battle, he is more than feeling his years. Aches and pains a guy in his early twenties shouldn’t be feeling for a couple decades dog his steps, and all he wants to do is take a shower and fall asleep for a solid day.

Maybe he can convince Jason to give him a massage. The warmth his body exudes as he works those large hands all over Tim’s back, over his ass, and down his legs to his feet and back up… Tim groans quietly as the Redbird comes to a stop in his underground garage, the autopilot having done most of the work to get him home. Yeah, he can stay awake for that. 

Mission reports can go fuck themselves as Tim trudges across the bottom floor of his lair, shedding pieces of Red Robin as he goes and leaving only his underwear behind. He’ll clean it up later. Stairs aren’t happening tonight, not with the compression wrap on his knee, so he takes the elevator up to the second floor of his converted theater home, bypassing the ground floor altogether. 

The door quietly opens into a room Jason converted into a study last year. They both were all too amused by the similarity to Bruce, but unlike Batman, this study actually sees regular use as Jason works on his bachelor’s degree.  

Tim is mildly surprised to find the room empty, with the lights off and no sign of his partner. A miserably cold and rainy night like this means the Red Hood is just as apt to stay indoors as the criminals he terrorizes, curled up on the overstuffed loveseat under the window with a book in one hand and a glass of steaming hot tea beside him on the small table. 

He makes his way across the room and into the hall, listening for any sign of Jason. There’s a light on in their bedroom, the faint crack of it visible under the closed door. Jason has to know he’s home. He sent a message.  

Although, now that he thinks about it, he never got one back. 

Crap. 

Tim sighs outside the door, hand gripping the knob as his intuition tells him he’s about to walk in on something so uniquely Jason that he might just end up closing the door again and finding his rest in a guest room. Jason is the master of passive/aggressive statements, which is admittedly a trait he finds extremely attractive. Just not when it’s turned on him. 

Time to get it over with. 

Knocking quietly to announce his presence, Tim opens the door.  

He blinks. Then blinks again, because seriously, what the hell? 

Jason is stretched out on their bed, books piled all around him, completely devoid of any clothing. An open book is rather strategically placed across his groin, shadowing certain body parts that have rarely failed to bring them both pleasure. Another book is propped up on his chest, concealing Jason’s face while doing nothing to hide the long line of his muscled torso and broad shoulders. If Tim were more awake and in less pain, he’d run for his camera because wow, this is something that needs to be captured on film forever. Forget color, grayscale all the way. Well, maybe he can edit it so that Jason’s eyes reveal their stunning blue-green to the world. 

 

 

Lost as he is in his head, it takes a moment to realize Jason hasn’t greeted him. Hasn’t even moved aside from turning a page. 

Great. Just great. 

“Hi,” Tim says after a moment when it becomes clear Jason isn’t going to acknowledge him. 

The book lowers and Jason peers out over the top of it, eyes framed in the reading glasses he broke down and purchased a few months ago. “Oh, you’re home,” he replies, sounding distant and distracted. 

Which could be a legitimate thing because Tim knows all too well just how far Jason can lose himself in his books, but the set up tells him it’s all too purposeful. What annoys him most right now is that the books are mostly stacked on his side of the bed. 

“Yeah, I’m home. Did you get my message?” Tim asks, closing the door behind him and heading toward the bathroom. The best solution to this is to ignore the blatant fact that anything is out of the norm. If he doesn’t give Jason the reaction he’s looking for, he’ll clean it all up on his own and maybe, just maybe, he can get the sleep he wants in his own bed rather than in the guest room. 

All hopes for a massage go down the drain. 

“Must have missed it.” Jason raises the book again. “There’s leftovers in the fridge if you’re hungry.” 

He’s starving, but unless Jason happens to take mercy on him, he’s not going downstairs. “Stairs are not a thing that’s happening tonight,” Tim says instead and gestures to his knee because he knows Jason is watching him out of the corner of his eye. “Banged up my knee pretty bad.” 

The book lowers again, this time folding across Jason’s chest as he gets his full attention. “Anyone look at that yet?”

“Cassie did back at the Tower and then Alfred took an x-ray when I landed. Nothing’s broken, but I should probably use crutches the next week or so to give the swelling some time to come down.” His jock is tossed aside as Tim enters the bathroom. Whether Jason chooses to follow and continue the conversation is up to him. 

He doesn’t.  

Tim can’t quite bring himself to care as he steps into the shower, the rain like water falling from above. The soft pitter-patter is soothing to his aching head and already he feels the tight muscles in his neck start to relax under the onslaught of heat. He could stand here just like this for hours, probably even sleep on his feet, if his knee wasn’t messed up. Sighing hard, he washes as fast as he can and all too soon steps out of his little safe haven.  

Toweling off introduces a new series of aches and pains and Tim briefly wonders if he’s got some bruised ribs as well. The compression bandage goes back on his knee and Tim wishes he’d had the foresight to bring a pair of sleep pants in here with him. Or that Jason isn’t being a dick for some imagined slight that totally isn’t his fault because of the mission taking so much longer than originally expected because then he’d be able to ask him to grab a pair. While he’s at it, he could also ask him to reheat dinner, but hell if he’s giving in first. 

Jason and his drama can suck it. 

Tim leaves the bathroom and turns off the light behind him.  

On the bed, Jason doesn’t appear to have moved at all, but his side of the bed is now free and clear of all the books. 

Thank god.  

Jason doesn’t say anything, but Tim can feel his eyes on him as he stops by the dresser for his pajama pants. They’re still on him as he gingerly takes a seat on the bed and wriggles his way into them, trying not to move his torso. 

“Ribs?” Jason finally asks, lowering the book again.  

“Maybe? They didn’t hurt before, but now that the adrenaline is wearing off…” 

This warrants a reaction and Jason rises from the bed, books tumbling to the floor as he retrieves the first aid kit they keep in the bathroom. Those hands are just as warm as Tim remembers and he tries not to lose himself in his head as they carefully prod at his torso. 

“You’ve got the beginnings of a really nice bruise right here,” Jason states, rubbing some arnica cream into the tender skin. The stuff works wonders on aches and bruises. “Want me to wrap you up, just in case?” 

“It can’t hurt.” Tim raises his arms for Jason to apply the bandages. The difficulty he has with keeping them up tells him there’s definitely a rib injury, even if nothing appears to be broken. 

When he’s done, Jason helps him lay down, adjusting the pillows and covers to how Tim prefers them. Sinking into the mattress feels like a dream and Tim is more than ready to make that a reality.

“You didn’t tell me you were injured,” Jason says, settling down beside him and poking the tip of Tim’s nose. 

Tim can’t even bat at his hand. “Would it have mattered?” 

“Uh, yeah. Now I need to fix the labels on your coffee beans.”

“And here I thought you looking like some untouchable adonis was your plan to get back at me.” 

Jason’s ears color as he blushes. “Oh, that? I saw a picture of some chick online doing that and loved how it looked." 

Tim huffs a quiet laugh. “Maybe after I get some sleep, you can recreate it. I’d love to take your picture, looking like that.” 

“You just want to get your perv on.” 

“It’s not my fault you’re stupidly attractive.” 

“Your face is stupid,” Jason retorts, bending over to plant a kiss softly on Tim’s lips. “Get some rest. I’ll make sure no one bothers you for the next twelve hours.” 

Tim sighs into the kiss, wishing he had the energy to do more. “I’m sorry I was so late getting home." 

“Shit happens.” Jason presses another kiss against the corner of his mouth. “Now go to sleep. I can catch you up on why I’m mad in the morning.” 

“Did I miss something?” Tim asks, more than half asleep already. 

“You have no concept of the calendar sometimes, I swear.” 

No, he really doesn’t. Tim misses the rest of Jason’s words as he falls asleep, nestled comfortably beside the one he loves most in the world.  

His husband.

 


End file.
